


Renaissance

by Chanel_Pirate



Category: Amnesia: The Dark Descent
Genre: Background Gaslighting, Brennenburg Castle of Bitchcraft and Alchemy, Casual Threesomes, Deleted Scene, Lockdown Mood, M/M, Polyamory, Sex Drugs and Shade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27407143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chanel_Pirate/pseuds/Chanel_Pirate
Summary: 1625, chez Brennenburg: three alchemists stay indoors, while outside the Duchy of Prussia is beset by plague, inept governance, and the Thirty Years’ War.
Relationships: Alexander of Brennenburg/Johann Weyer/Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	Renaissance

**Author's Note:**

> Do consider this a teaser trailer to some monstrosity I began over two years ago. I wrote this in a couple of hours this morning fuelled by fiendish glee. Don’t you love it when that happens?

“—and that’s what I did last time I was in England,” Alexander said, took the pipe from Johann, and inhaled in triumph. “My word, imagine. Travelling. Of any sort.”

“No, wait, wait, this cannot be true.” Johann shifted against the headboard, stared at a fixed point on the bed. “Wait a minute. James the First? I thought he had men killed for that. Where was I then?”

Alexander rearranged himself on the bed so that a tasteful amount of leg was flashing out of his dressing gown. He pointedly did not turn his head away from Johann when he exhaled. “Goodness only knows,” he muttered.

“No, I can believe it,” Heinrich said. He stood at the window with a glass of wine, wearing not a stitch of clothing. “It’s more exciting when one breaks the laws one has enforced. Have you ever spoken to that Villiers fellow? Complete idiot, but most becoming. Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Duke in eight years? The matter explains itself.” He took a sip, raising his glass in Alexander’s direction. “Good work.”

“Yes but.” Johann fidgeted. “ _Daemonologie_ was balderdash. The worst excuse for scholarship that ever found its way to my desk.”

Alexander was all teeth. “Jealous?”

Johann sat up straighter. “It is a matter of conduct, and decorum! Even if one is the King of England, if one were to reference an older work it is customary to acknowledge—”

“By my oath if you mention _Pseudomonarchia_ again, I am so tired of it, we’ve spoken at length about—”

“Gentlemen.” Heinrich crossed the room to take the pipe from Alexander. Both men took a moment to admire his muscular form.

“I’m simply saying,” Alexander said, glaring at Johann, “that some men are easily impressed. John Dee, for example? All I had to do was glow a little and he immediately fell to his knees—”

“John Dee? Heinrich, give me that,” Johann snapped. “Disgusting little man that he was. Undid so much of my good work in the orthodoxy, I don’t see why you would—”

“My dear, I vouchsafe our lord Baron is out to set your teeth on edge.” Heinrich gave Johann the pipe. “I daresay you need this.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” Alexander reached for a bottle of wine from the night table. “Besides, Heinrich, you knew John Dee. You introduced us in correspondence. Oh, the late sixteenth was a glorious time.”

“When he says you knew him, does he mean,” Johann began.

“Hush dear, it is of no consequence. Smoke the pipe, it’s good for you,” Heinrich said smoothly, putting down his glass so he could settle on the bed.

A few minutes passed in silence as they smoked together. Alexander curled into Heinrich’s side, still gripping the bottle. Heinrich put his arm around him, and he relaxed. He stared into nothing and resolved to think of much the same.

One day at a time. Day after day after night after day. Anything else would be too much. Besides, he had these two at his side. As three, they were unstoppable. They would achieve the unachievable, together. He knew it was possible. Johann had done it before, after all.

“We’re getting through an awful lot of this stuff,” Johann said eventually. “Do we have enough to last us the rest of this war, do you think.”

“Not to worry. The blue light makes it grow better, you’ve seen.” Alexander was warm, and bone-tired. He could sleep for centuries. “I don’t see how this could go on for much longer. It’s already been… how long has this situation—?”

“Georg Wilhelm is just the most incompetent, most intellectually void, narcissistic,” Heinrich muttered.

“Not that Sigismund was much better, back in the day. Utter vulture when it came to taxes. Someone didn’t tell him what Freiherr meant. Almost had a riot on my hands,” Alexander said, eyes closed. He might drift off, just like this.

“I mean, I mean.” Johann had been holding the pipe for a while. “The war is one thing, but this plague. They just do not know how to handle any of it.”

Alexander leaned over, groggy, reaching for the pipe. His movement upset the wine bottle, and Heinrich moved to rescue it before it could shatter on that rug that Alexander went on and on about because he’d had it imported from Persia or wherever in the many hells.

“What is it the criers like to say? These are unprecedented times, Johann,” Alexander said, craning over Heinrich’s torso, a mocking edge to his smile. “Unbekanntlich.”

“That’s not even a real word,” Johann protested. Alexander’s hand tightened around Johann’s on the pipe. Johann didn’t let go of it.

“But you understood. You’re smiling.” Alexander blinked up at him.

“Hm. Yes.” Johann tugged on Alexander’s hand and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss, his other hand winding into his hair. Alexander gave a small moan and leaned in further.

Heinrich cleared his throat. “As much as I enjoy seeing the two of you like this, I am losing feeling in my arm.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that,” Alexander said as Johann yelped, snatching his hand back from the pipe, dropping it. Despite his dulled reflexes, Alexander quickly caught it.

“Damn it Johann!”

“Well, what did I do? You held it so I couldn’t move and—”

“It could have burned through these sheets! Egyptian cotton, sixty years old—”

“It could have burned through my hand!”

Heinrich shifted so as to move them apart. “I do treasure the peace and quiet during these soirées of ours.”

Alexander smoked the pipe, which still burned, though only through air and lungs, and sulked.

Johann took a deep breath, and visibly recalibrated. “What is the situation right now, anyway? When will it all end?”

“Why don’t we go outside and check,” Alexander snapped. “There’s a plague on. Last time I was forced to go to Altstadt all I could see were fools openly going about without poultices or sachets. Saying their god and faith and strong peasant constitution would save them.”

“Why are you surprised?” Heinrich said. The glass of wine he’d put down earlier was back in his hand. “They do not have the facility to understand that miasma cannot be prayed away. I heard some call it the disease of the effete.”

“But Alexander seems well enough.” Johann smirked.

“One day, Johann.” Alexander slowly released a plume of smoke that occluded his face. Something in it shimmered into existence, and out again. “One day.”

“What? You will be cured by the love of a good woman?”

Alexander sighed, and crawled over Heinrich’s body to straddle Johann’s lap. “Stranger things have happened. For example, I’ve missed you. Before.”

Heinrich took the pipe before any mishaps could repeat, as they usually did with them. He drained his glass, put it aside, and took a long draw on the herb as both his beloveds kissed with increasing heat. Smoking whatever it was Alexander cultivated always put him in mind of making the beast with two backs—or three, as the case may be—but the sight of them was more than enough to excite him.

“What I’m concerned about,” Heinrich said after watching them for a few more interesting moments, “is what might happen should the war come here directly. Refugees and deserters is one thing, but that. That could disrupt our work rather than aid it.”

Alexander was furiously battling his dressing gown as Johann tried to pull it down his shoulders. “For god’s sake Heinrich, what could they want here. I chose this place for a reason.”

“An equidistant point between Memel and Königsberg, for one. Garrison, food. Women. Think, Brennenburg. It’s what I would do.”

Their eyes rested on each other. Johann was at Alexander’s throat, leaving marks. “Do I look like I’m”—Alexander gasped—“look I don’t give a damn about what a few Swedes have to say. What are they going to do, I’m not about to let them ruin—Johann!”

“Yes?” Johann’s hand was at Alexander’s cock, teasing at the head with his thumb.

“And should they arrive at the very gates?” Heinrich smirked, inhaled one last time, and snuffed out the pipe, putting it away.

“Then I’ll protect Brennenburg from intruders, as I always have,” Alexander said, though the effect was lost slightly as Heinrich moved closer to them, stroking a hand into Alexander’s hair. “Oh Heinrich, that’s not fair, you know how—” Heinrich pulled, and Alexander whimpered. Johann laughed.

“And how will you do that?” Johann said into Alexander’s neck, and Heinrich mouth crashed against his own. Johann’s hand tightened on Alexander’s cock, his hips bucking upwards.

“I will—I will.” Alexander swallowed, “I will call a parley with Gustav Adolphus himself! And I will, oh the devil take the both of you—”

“You will what. Lie with him?” Johann smirked.

“I—” Alexander was cut off by Heinrich’s lips.

“What? You’ll allow him to push you down with that soldier’s body and—”

“Why do you—you’ve thought about this—I can’t lie with every king, you know, there’s simply not enough time—”

Heinrich manhandled Alexander, rearranging them so he was pinned below his own tall and strong body, with Johann to the side with his lap empty and his cock very stiff.

“You two just never stop, do you,” Heinrich said, with affection. Alexander looked up at him with tenderness, or perhaps something more.

“It’s not my fault Herr Weyer has some strange fantasies about my diplomatic affairs,” Alexander said, breathless as he opened his mouth to Heinrich’s fingers.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Johann muttered, stroking himself to the sight before him.

“He’s obsessed with pregnant women, that Gustav. It’s most odd. Just. Wombs, wombs, wombs. Heredity. Boring. Pointless,” Alexander said, Heinrich’s spit-coated fingers trailing down his side. Johann shuddered. “Anyway, in this strange alternate world where things make even less sense—tell me Johann, what does he do next?”

Johann watched Heinrich kiss Alexander, watched as Heinrich’s fingers disappeared between Alexander’s legs, his hand moving faster on his cock. “Why, he fucks you of course. And leaves you lying there, just like that. Desperate for more.”

Alexander closed his eyes as Heinrich entered him, flinging out a hand in Johann’s direction. Johann held it delicately, like a promise.

“Honestly,” Heinrich said as Alexander moved to hook a leg around his shoulder. He held it in place, and thrust. “How do we get anything done around here.”

“What can I say, my darling, my—ah.” He bit down on his tongue at the sensation of Heinrich inside him, his hand tightening about Johann’s, and felt so full it hurt. “There’s some whores in this house.”

**Author's Note:**

> …Who, me? What? I don’t know what you mean. :) I just think as a sex positive queer person that sex positive queer people are great! I love and support us! That is _all_.
> 
> This is literally three people in the early seventeenth, getting high as shit and reading everything and everybody for filth. Any resemblance or allusions to persons and/or situations living or dead are completely on purpose, I’m not even going to lie. The shade continues on tumblr @chanelpirate 🕺🏼
> 
> Let me know what you think, I always love to read your comments!


End file.
